When Larry started out upon this, his very first hunt alone, he was filled with a newborn ambition. But before he had wandered for ten minutes he began to feel the heat, and wished he had not been so silly as to imagine he were cut out for a mighty Nimrod.

Several times he stumbled over unseen roots of the ever-present saw palmetto. Fortunately he did not have the hammer of his gun raised at the time, or there might have been a premature explosion.

When twenty minutes had gone he was beginning to feel angry at himself because he had voluntarily undertaken this task, for which nature had never fitted him.

Still, he was possessed of some grit, and disliked very much the idea of showing the white feather. At any rate, he would keep away the full hour, and then try to locate the camp. Phil could not then have the laugh on him; for even the best of hunters have their hard luck days.

Several times he saw frisky squirrels looking curiously at him around some tree. He was even tempted to try and bag a few of these little fellows, for after all they were game; and perhaps more in his line than swift flying quail, or the bounding deer. But every time he thus decided, the squirrel seemed to guess his hostile intentions; for it vanished from sight, running up the other side of the live oak, and losing itself amid the abundant foliage.

Now half an hour had gone. It was really time he turned back, and headed for the motor boat. That caused Larry to wonder if he could actually figure out which the proper direction might be; so he sat him down on a log for a brief rest, while he carried on his mental calculations. When he started on again Larry actually believed he was pushing straight for camp; when truth to tell he was heading at an angle of thirty degrees away from the same.

Then, as he was stumbling along through the scrub, lo! and behold he saw a moving object ahead. What it was he did not even know as he threw the gun to his shoulder, completely shut his eyes when pulling the trigger, and blazed away.

When he looked again it was to see a big turkey gobbler fluttering along over the ground, with a broken leg and wing. Filled with great joy Larry gave a whoop, and started in pursuit. That was his undoing.

Little he thought of what a chase that stricken gobbler was giving him. In and out of the swampy places, and through the more open woods, he kept in pursuit.

There were times when he actually was so close upon the prize that he began to thrust out his eager hand, bent on capturing the wounded bird. Then, as if given a new lease of life, the turkey would again flutter away, with the panting Larry hot on the track.

More than once he was tempted to give the thing up, he felt so out of breath and exhausted from the heat and his exertions combined. And at such times the miserable bird would squat down on the ground, just as if tempting him to further labor; so once more he would start in pursuit.

The queerest part of the whole affair, as Larry himself realized later on, was that in all this time he utterly forgot that he carried a gun in which there were five more unused shells; and that a dozen times he could have made use of the weapon to finish the flutterings of the sorely stricken turkey.

Finally the desperate bird managed to flap across a swampy stretch, and drop on the opposite patch of firm ground. Larry gave the nearest approach to a cry of victory his depleted lungs would allow; for he saw that the turkey had finally given up the ghost, and died!

But how was he to reach it? As far as he could see the same stretch of quaking bog extended. In patches water even lay upon it; and the balance was black mud.

He tried it here and there, finally striking a spot where it seemed to hold up fairly well under his weight. And so, laying down the precious gun, he started out, intending to pick his way carefully over the muck, under the belief that if he looked he could see where the seeming ridge lay just under the surface.

About the time he got half way across Larry began to have serious doubts as to the wisdom of his course. He seemed to be sinking in deeper all the while, so that he even grew alarmed. Standing still for a minute to look around him, in order to ascertain whether there might not yet be found a safe causeway over to the solid ground where his wild turkey lay so temptingly, he was forced to the humiliating conclusion that it was useless in his keeping on.

Tony, having been born and brought up in the swamps, might know just how to go about the thing; but what could be expected of a new beginner? He must go back, and give up all hopes of ever laying hands on the first game that had ever fallen to his gun as a hunter. And such noble game, too!

Why, Phil would never believe his story. He would have nothing to show for it, not even so much as a feather.

To his horror, when he tried to turn around, he found that he could not lift so much as a foot; and looking down he was startled to see that he had, even while thinking the thing over, sunk in to his knees.

For the first time Larry began to tremble with fright. He had heard of quicksands, and while this black ooze could hardly be called by such a name, it was certainly a quagmire.

Perhaps it did not have any bottom perhaps he would keep on sinking inch by inch until his head went under! And when Phil and Tony came along later, they might only learn his fate from seeing the gun on one bank, and the dead turkey on the other.

He strained with all his might. Now he managed to get one foot comparatively free; but as all his weight came on the other, that sank down two inches, instead of just one.

Wild with fear Larry started to shouting. At first his voice was strong, for he was thoroughly worked up; but after a little while he found that he was getting husky. So he stopped calling, and devoted himself to finding out whether there might not be some way by means of which he could save himself.

Possibly poor Larry exercised his mind more during the time he was held a prisoner in the clutch of that sticky mud than at any previous span of his whole existence. And he had good reason for alarm. Many an unfortunate fellow has been sucked down by the muck to be found in marsh or swamp, his fate unknown.

As Larry happened to turn his despairing eyes upward, to see whether the sun might be going down, for it seemed to be getting gloomy to him, he made a discovery that gave rise to a newborn hope.

Just over his head, and within reach of his extended hands, the limbs of a tree swung down. It was a live oak that grew on the solid ground near by; and the idea that had flashed into his mind was that perhaps he might tear enough of these same branches down to make a sort of mattress on the surface of the mud, which would even bear his weight temporarily.

Feverishly then did Larry start to breaking off such branches as came within his reach. These he carefully allowed to fall upon the mud in a heap. And he made sure to draw each down just as far as he could before breaking it loose.

But he was sinking all the while, so that he was now down almost to his waist.

Why, his hands actually touched the sticky mire when he, by accident, let them fall at his sides. If this sort of thing kept on, in less than twenty minutes it would be all over with him.

And by now he realized another discouraging fact. Even though he could succeed in making a mat sufficient to bear his weight, how was he to draw his legs, one at a time, out of that adhesive stuff?

He tried it, tried with every atom of strength left in his body; but the effort was a dismal failure. This seemed to be the finishing stroke. Larry had managed to keep his spirits up fairly well, believing that he might somehow drag himself out of his difficulty.

“I can’t hardly move,” he said to himself, hoarsely. “I’m stuck for fair, and all the while going down, down, slowly but surely. Oh! my goodness! what can I do?”

Looking up he saw that the largest branch was still within reach. A last wild hope flashed upon him would it be possible for him to seize hold of this, and draw himself out of the hole?

He no sooner conceived this idea than he set about carrying it into execution. Securing a good grip, he started pulling. Strain as he would, he could not gain a particle. The only thing at all encouraging was that while he thus clung to that branch, he did not sink any lower!

Minutes passed. They seemed hours to that imperiled lad. His muscles certainly grew sore with the continuous strain of holding on so desperately, and fighting against the awful suction of the greedy mud.

How long could he hold out? Not many minutes more, he feared, for he was pretty close to the point of exhaustion now. And when nature refused to longer battle for his life he must yield to his fate.

Larry groaned at the outlook before him. Would his chums ever come? Were they still lying around the camp, filled with confidence that the hunter could redeem his boastful words, and return with the greatest of ease? Oh! what a fool he had been to start out alone. Never again would he fancy himself a woodsman, if he were lucky enough to get out of this horrible scrape.

Facing such a serious outlook it was little wonder then that Larry again burst out into shouts, that were hardly more than a mockery, it seemed to him, so hoarse had his voice become, and so incapable of serving him.

But nevertheless those shouts had served their purpose, and reached the listening ears of his comrades.